


That Was Awesome (then it wasn't)

by freehugsforfandom



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universes, M/M, Post-Film, Prompt Fill, and are adorably domestic, artistic liberties with hannibal chau's identity, liberal swearing, newt and hermann have a kid, which is inevitable because it's newt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 21:58:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freehugsforfandom/pseuds/freehugsforfandom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt has the Greatest Idea in the History of Great Ideas: he's figured out how to rig a PONS device and is going to see if he can peek in on an alternate universe. </p><p>It's totally a bad move, dude.</p><p>(or: don't play around with dangerous tech, otherwise you might end up in a place where you're married to and have a kid with Hannibal freakin' Chau)</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Was Awesome (then it wasn't)

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for this prompt (http://pacificrimkink.livejournal.com/2747.html?thread=4086971#t4086971) that ran away from me a bit. I might go back and edit this sometime, 'cause the idea and the verse is hella interesting. Unbeta'd, so any mistakes are mine.

 

It seemed like every third Tuesday morning or so Hermann would walk into the kitchen, Audrey babbling quietly on his shoulder, direct his gaze from Newt preparing breakfast to the counter-top, and sigh heavily. The oft-heard argument would thus proceed:

 

“The milk.”

 

“Hm, sorry?”

 

“The milk, Newton.”

 

“What about the milk?”

 

“You left the milk out overnight, _again_.”

 

“Aw, fucking hell—”

 

“What did I say about swearing in front of Audrey?”

 

“Fine. Fudge.”

 

“Exactly. Thank you.”

 

Hermann would then pinch the coffee from Newt’s hands and settle their daughter with some cereal, all the while giving Newt this really fucking weird warm feeling in his chest. It’s disconcerting, yeah, for _Hermann Gottlieb_ of all people doing the whole domestic thing. Doesn’t seem quite right for the guy who used to shout at him because he (totally accidently) let some kaiju viscera fall onto his side of the lab. Now he’s reading a newspaper and coaxing Audrey to spoon cereal properly and Jesus, some days it doesn’t even seem real, what did they do to get all this?

 

Newt pours himself another cup of coffee and lets the scolding liquid cover his urge to voice these opinions. Touch wood and all that shit.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s kind of hilarious how he’s made MIT his bitch. Newt so much as sneezes and twelve department heads start scrambling to hand him tissues and condolences for the inevitable cold. It’s pretty fucking sweet, dude.

 

So if he, let’s say, mentions that hypothetically he wanted to get his hands on one of the old PONS devices –

 

“Of course, Dr Geiszler,” the Dean smiled widely. “I’ll contact the PPDC and request it be delivered to your lab by tomorrow.”

 

Newt cracked his knuckles in anticipation. “Awesome, thanks!”

 

“Not a problem!”

 

Yep, MIT is totally under his thumb. That whole rock star thing is working out for him hella well.

 

* * *

 

 

And so it is on the day of the 23rd June that Newton Geiszler almost orgasms over his own findings.

 

“Hermann, dude, look at this!” Newt said later that night, shoving his scribblish notes at Hermann. The other man made a gesture for him to be quiet for Audrey, asleep in the next room, and grudgingly took the papers. “This totally proves that the PONS system could be used for cross-dimensional travel, if you used some of the technical aspects from the Breach—”

 

Hermann’s lips were pursed, which Newt ignored because holy shit man, alternate universes! “Even if this were possible, which is highly unlikely due to the flawed and incorrect calculations,” as if to emphasis his point, Hermann aggressively circled one of the equations. Newt made a wounded sound, “the only way you’d be able to test this is to rig yourself into the system yourself and Newt,” Hermann placed down the paper and deliberately caught Newt’s eyes, “if you do such a thing again, there is no certainty you’ll come back.”

 

Of course it was dangerous. Of course there were risks that caressed the corners of Newt’s mind, sending short jolts of phantom sensation to the forefront of his memory. The hive had been ravenous, so fucking _alien_ that he’d recoiled in terror when the first hungry mind brushed his own. It wasn’t the kaiju, but there was still that possibility. He could lose everything – the home he’d resurrected from a fractured society, a family that he didn’t deserve yet received anyway, friends who actually cared about him. All these tiny fragments of his life could just disappear for an impulsive experiment.

 

To his left was Audrey’s room, the door ornately proclaiming the owner in clumsily painted wooden letters. In there his daughter slept peacefully, not even acutely aware of the world that threatened to hound her every step and give her a life full of wonder. She was the next step; a mind that could use his knowledge to climb out into the universe. Newt swallowed past the lump in his throat and laughed humourlessly. “Yeah, yeah. It’s too theoretical. I won’t try it.”

 

Hermann nodded, his gestured satisfied while his hand clenched around Newt’s. “Thank you,” he murmured.

 

Newt squeezed back. It might be his last chance, after all.

 

* * *

 

 

**TRANSCRIPT OF MIT AUDIO DEVICE #12: 24 TH JUNE, 2029 | DR NEWTON GEISZLER**

 

_This thing on? Ah – fuck – Jesus how the fuck do you – oh, there we go. Cool. Awesome._

 

_So, uh, I’m testing out the adjustments I made to the PONS, expanding on Drift technology with calculations made by myself and—and Dr Gottlieb in 2025. With this data I’ve changed the output signals on the PONS, but all that long rambling technobabble is in the report on my desk, which I’ll either present physically or, ah… it’ll be found. If I don’t, y’know. Make it._

 

_Fuck. Okay, shit, this is kinda terrifying. Scheiße. I – my will’s updated. “The last will and testament of Newton Geiszler” and all that. That makes me wonder who’ll actually listen to this. Because – fuck, Hermann, if it’s you and I’m not there, you’re gonna bring me back to life and kill me for being stupid, yeah? Sounds like you. Hermann, tut mir leid. Ich liebe dich so sehr. Tell Audrey she can have my manga collection, when she’s old enough. Uh, that’s all in my will. All the – the legal stuff._

 

 _Okay, PONS system is ready. If this works, I should be back in about fifteen minutes to half an hour. Hopefully. I’ll get a glimpse of somewhere else – an alternate universe, how fucking_ cool _is that – and will live to tell the tale._

 

_Again, hopefully. Fuck._

 

_Do these things usually buzz like_

 

**END TRANSMISSION**

 

* * *

 

 

You know that feeling when you go out to a Berlin night club on a Friday night, have two bottles of vodka and sprite, throw up on the DJ, have sex with a grad student behind the dumpsters, get the shit beaten out of you by some dickheads from the community college, pop a few pills your friend hands you, down one of those sickly sweet cocktails, have sex for a second time with that grad student’s twin sister, find your forty year old advanced neurobiology professor getting a lapdance in a gay bar, and then realise you’re the one giving it?

 

Yeah, that’s the feeling Newt was experiencing as he emptied his stomach into a bin full of kaiju entrails.

 

His entire body ached and sure, that sucks, but not as much as the overwhelming confusion that surrounded him. Newt didn’t even know exactly why, but everything felt wrong and out of whack and is he supposed to be this disoriented?

 

“Newt?”

 

Okay, whoa, no. There is _blood_ coming out of his fucking nose. Not cool. Very not cool. Well, it was kind of inevitable because he was using the PONS and all, but still.

 

“Newt, can you hear me?”

 

He’s convinced for a moment that there are several thousand bees burrowing into his ears, their humming contributing to the utter lack of direction that existed around him. Which was really bad, considering the emphasis the PPDC put on awareness (well, if you didn’t know where the fuck you were it usually meant you were lost in the Drift or something). After taking in a few jittery gulps of breath, the buzzing subsided to a bearable level.

 

Then Newt noticed someone’s arms were wrapped around his shoulders.

 

“Newt, God, don’t do that again, I need to get Pentecost—” rambled a voice above him. Aside from the fact that this stranger was holding Newt in a gentle headlock, they sounded familiar. Low-toned, rough, probably able to scare the shit out of someone who might have just Drifted with a kaiju brain and wanted access to another one.

 

If Newt could speak, he’d demand to know why exactly Hannibal Chau was hugging him.

 

It was probably something to do with the PONS, yeah? If Newt could just connect himself up again, he might be able to get back to some semblance of normality, where Hermann would shout at him for trying something so risky and Chau was in jail and Pentecost was fucking dead already.

 

Huh, so he managed to travel through time. Awesome. Except now he had to find out why the ever-loving fuck Chau was there. Not so awesome.

 

Chau was letting him go (hallelujah) and walking out of the lab, throwing a few ‘reassuring’ phrases behind him. “Newt, just stay there. I’ll get Pentecost. Audrey’s fine—”

 

Audrey.

 

His daughter Audrey, one of the sneakiest little shits to exist and someone who, at this point, shouldn’t even be alive yet.

 

Whoa, Dorothy wasn’t in Kansas anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

Living through one apocalypse is enough. Living through two almost convinced Newt that the glamour of it all was flimsy as shit.

 

He was weaving through the streets of Hong Kong, so lost in memory that his feet walked of their own accord. The kaiju dealer, whatever universe, had the same central location, which was a bit of a mind-fuck.

 

Actually, no, the more disturbing thing was Hannibal Chau, or ‘Dr Andrew Jackson’. _Apparently_ he was a legitimate Shatterdome employee. _Apparently_ he was a genius and Newt’s co-worker. _Apparently_ they celebrated their fifth wedding anniversary six months ago by adopting a little girl and calling her Audrey.

 

Fuck, it was so messed up. In his jacket pocket was a picture of this other Audrey; she was all dimples and silky red plaits. But Audrey – his Audrey – wasn’t her. His Audrey had frizzy brown hair which could never be tamed by Hermann, and dark skin without a single freckle or mole, and a laugh that was an almost palpable echo to Newt as he entered the dodgy storefront for the second time.

 

This time, however, he had no idea what to expect.

 

If Hannibal (Andrew, fuck) was a respectable and creepily caring person here, then who was the kaiju dealer? Probably someone he knew. Tendo? If it was Choi then he was going to piss himself.

 

Sure enough he was led through to the headquarters and even though his head was still spinning from everything, Newt felt an old, nostalgic excitement burn on his fingertips. All those specimens, just waiting to be examined – man, old interests die hard. He always got a science boner from this awesome collection.

 

Newt was staring closely at a skin mite when another familiar voice called from a few metres away, “What do you want?”

 

Ah, shit. Newt’s stomach dropped and his flesh suddenly felt cold and uncomfortable. Man, he wanted to run, his every instinct telling him that this was _so fucking wrong_.

 

“I said,” Hermann – or Archimedes (what did he expect from someone who crushed on mathematicians, honestly) but like fuck he was going to call him that – walked down the steps smoothly and made his way over to Newt. His movements were fluid and predatory without his cane, giving Newt the jolt of disconcertion he needed. This wasn’t his Hermann; this man didn’t give a shit about him. “What do you want?”

 

“I—” the words rotted on Newt’s tongue. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering what happened to Hermann to send him here. He supposed he should ask the same thing about Hannibal Chau. “I need to access an intact kaiju brain,” he finally spluttered out. Hermann narrowed his eyes.

 

“Come with me,” he snapped, gesturing for Newt to follow him. Outside the rain increased, lashing the balcony where Hermann stopped.

 

You know what really weirded Newt out? Hermann still wore those god-awful grandpa clothes – all that itchy tweed and shit. If his Hermann and this Hermann stood side-by-side, at first you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between them, aside from the cane thing. But look again: his Hermann cared. His Hermann had laugh lines from genuine happiness, not the bitter sneer that had been swept over this Hermann. Somehow Newt actually pitied the poor guy.

 

Yeah, pitied him for, like, point five of a second before he reached over and yanked down the skin beneath Newt’s eye. “You Drifted with one, didn’t you?” Hermann murmured, sending a shudder down Newt’s spin. “You imbecilic fool, you Drifted with a kaiju, and I suppose you want to do it again?”

 

The insult struck Newt hard. _Dude, those words aren’t supposed to hurt_ , he felt like shouting. _You shouldn’t hate me._

 

But he didn’t say a word. Hermann chuckled and Newt wanted to sprint off into the streets and never, ever return.

 

* * *

 

 

Chau was offering to Drift with him, and like hell he was going to do that.

 

“Come on, Newt,” Chau gripped his hand, catching his eye. The lack of scarring and glasses was still weird after a few hours. “We can do it.”

 

“Uh,” Newt coughed, gently releasing Chau’s hand. “It’s okay; I can do it by myse—”

 

“Fuck, Newt, no!” oh, shit, now Chau was angry. The taller man picked up one of the PONS headsets, adjusting it as he rambled, “I’m doing this with you, I want to, there’s no way I’m letting you do this alone again. I love you.”

 

Chau leaned over and quickly pecked Newt on the lips.

 

That’s it; Newt had finally had enough of this bullshit. His heart was threatening to fly into overdrive, pounding in his skull and reminding him that this wasn’t his life, he didn’t have to accept this. Fuck, he just saw Hermann get eaten by the kaiju baby. It hurt more than he cared to admit. And now Hannibal freakin’ Chau was saying he loved Newt, but he didn’t love this Newt; he couldn’t love the Newton Geiszler who rigged a PONS device three years from then in another universe.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Newt laughed empty and mirthless. “No, _Andrew_ , I’m not okay. I just watched my husband get eaten by a kaiju, you’re not in love with me, and the picture of the girl in my pocket isn’t Audrey.”

 

Chau froze, mouth agape. In another other context, seeing Hannibal Chau surprised would be hilarious. “Newt, maybe you shouldn’t Drift. You’re confused. Maybe being connected to the hive mind—”

 

“Shut the fuck up, dude,” Newt growled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so pissed off. Chau flinched, a motion that added fuel to the weirdness factor because since when was he so human? “Listen, I’m not your Newt. As crazy as it sounds, I altered a PONS system and managed to end up here, with you. I’m not married to you, I’m with Hermann.”

 

“Hermann?”

 

“Uh, Archimedes, which if you ask me is _so Hermann_ I just—”

 

“That kaiju dealer?” Chau looked disgusted. “He’s a lunatic. Did,” he paused, eyes suddenly concerned. “Did he give you something? Convince you to go along with this so you got the brain?”

 

“What? No! Jesus, no, Hermann didn’t say anything, and,” Newt had the gall to be unimpressed, “he’s not a lunatic.”

 

No matter what universe he was in, nobody insulted his husband, okay?

 

“Newt, we should get back to the Shatterdome,” Chau said carefully, setting down the PONS headpiece. “I’ll call the Marshall.” With that he turned, fishing out a comms device and started fervently typing.

 

Just beyond Newt’s reach was the other PONS set, all set up for him to Drift. Staring at it he had one of the stupidest and probably most brilliant ideas of the night. If his Hermann were here Newt is sure that that stuffy idiot would admit it was kind of incredible. Really risky and had the possibility of failing miserably, but he had to get out of there as soon as possible. Newt couldn’t stand another minute in the presence of Hannibal Chau and the looming threat of kaiju. That was his past, so far buried beneath the domesticity of his usual life that to have it here, stark and miserable again, was totally not okay.

 

“Hope you find your husband,” Newt muttered at Chau’s back as he presses down on the button and is drawn back into the Drift once more.

 

* * *

 

 

You know that feeling when you go out to a New York bar on a Saturday night, consume three bottles of tequila, give the DJ a blowjob, get thrown up on by a trainee florist in the middle of the dance floor, beat the shit out of some douche who was pressuring his girlfriend to have sex with him, deny your friend’s offer of some heroin, meet a lovely undergrad over some beers, and give that same undergrad their very first kiss?

 

Newt is so tired wants to cry when he comes back to consciousness.

 

“Newton?”

 

His vision is fuzzy and when he reaches up, he doesn’t feel his glasses. Well, shit, he’s basically blind.

 

“Newton, listen to me.”

 

Even though he can barely see a thing, Newt can smell the blood on his fingernails. The rusty scent makes him want to hurl, but somehow he manages to keep his cool.

 

“You imbecilic fool, Geiszler, I swear on Galileo’s grave—”

 

Holy shit, it’s Hermann.

 

Glasses are shoved onto his face and oh man, oh man, Hermann is staring down on him and he look so fucking concerned that Newt knows his impulsive plan totally worked.

 

Newt grins weakly. “Hey, Herms. Whaddup?”

 

Aw, he’s missed that constipated look Hermann gets when he doesn’t know whether to kiss Newt or smack his shins with his cane. He doesn’t do either (which sucks majorly because Newt could really erase the memory of Chau kissing him, urg), but squeezes Newt’s hand. “You did it, you prat,” Hermann hisses, but the venom of the statement isn’t there. “You could have _died._ ”

 

“Ah, yeah. But I didn’t!” Newt gestures to his mostly whole self. It’s only then does he realise where exactly he is: his lab at MIT, his altered PONS device lying broken beside him. “Wait, how long have I been gone?”

 

Hermann shifts uncomfortably and avoids his gaze. “You started this experiment two days ago.”

 

“So I’ve been lying here for forty-eight hours?” Newt lifts an arm and sniffs. “Don’t smell like it.”

 

“Well, uh,” Hermann stutters, which instantly makes Newt a teeny, tiny bit concerned. “While you were in – in that other universe, the mind of that Newt, ah, came here.” The last part comes out in a rush and immediately Newt knows what happened.

 

He lets out a breath. “So a Newt that was married to Hannibal Chau in 2025 spent two days in ’29 with you?” Hermann nods slowly. Suddenly, the ludicrous nature of what happened catches up on Newt. “This is like a fucking TV show, oh my god.”

 

“Indeed. However, the entirety of our lives could be described as more than slightly fictitious, Newton,” Hermann’s lips twitch in amusement. “Do giant sea monsters attacking San Francisco sound reasonable?”

 

Newt squawks indignantly. “Hey, kaiju aren’t sea monsters! The number of times you’ve seen that in my reports—”

 

“It depends on definition; the kaiju could be colloquially described as monsters, and they did originate from the ocean—”

 

“Dude, they aren’t from the ocean. Come on—”

 

“Nevertheless, to the common person—”

 

“We aren’t the common person, Hermann.”

 

Hermann laughs softly and it’s almost a melody. “I’m glad we aren’t, Newt.”

 

It’s the use of his shortened name from Hermann after what feels like centuries that solidifies for Newt that he’ll be okay. The memories aren’t going to disappear any time soon (especially the utter desperation in the other Hermann’s eyes when Otachi Junior swallowed him whole; the fear will drag on Newt’s consciousness for years to come), but he’s fine. He’s home.

 

“Thankfully,” Hermann says, and Newt doesn’t realise he’s spoken aloud until, hey, they’re kissing and it feels like he can’t breathe right. It’s relieved and rushed, but Hermann’s clutching his jacket so tightly he’s shaking and he knows, so well, that Hermann loves him.

 

Newt’s so fucking glad he doesn’t notice that Hermann’s lips taste slightly like sour milk, otherwise he’d tease him ‘til the end of time. _Who left the milk out this time, sucker._

 

**Author's Note:**

> German translations:  
> Scheiße: Shit  
> Hermann, tut mir leid. Ich liebe dich so sehr: Hermann, I'm sorry. I love you so much
> 
> (if this is incorrect feel free to contact me)


End file.
